


Don't You Go

by tenshi13



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Don't You Go, Enjolras has a realisation, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenshi13/pseuds/tenshi13
Summary: Grantaire has a taste of what is never to be





	Don't You Go

Both Grantaire’s glass and the bottle he’d poured it from were half empty, not that he’d noticed, jabbering vaguely in Joly’s direction, although really to anyone who cared to listen. He paused only to finish his glass in one long gulp, picking up where he left off even as his eyes darted unconsciously across the room.

Courfeyrac held up a glass in a toast, to what was unclear in the hubbub of the backroom but the words _youth_ and _future_ made it to Grantaire’s ears. He snorted unceremoniously and his long winded speech took a detour into the futility of human life before finishing up somewhere in the region of the inherent vices of human kind. Not that anyone was paying attention, nor did he particularly blame them, he too had lost track of the point he was trying to make, and in any case it had been a depressing one.

He pushed himself out of the crook between the table and the wall, cutting diagonally through the room. There were only nine or ten others, but it still felt overfull, the atmosphere as well as the people filling the room. Courfeyrac slapped him on the back with slightly too much zeal as he passed; Jehan offered him a knowing look that Grantaire could make neither heads nor tails of – until that is, he saw Enjolras.

Typical _._ Without thinking about it, without noticing it, he had headed straight for Enjolras. This was likely a terrible decision, but not one for cutting his losses he took a seat, leaving one space between him and Apollo. Didn’t you know overexposure to the sun was bad for you? He laughed to himself, reached for his glass, before realising he’d left it on the table.

Enjolras sat quietly, slouched comfortably in his chair, hands clasped in his lap. Despite popular opinion he was not always in the middle of an impassioned speech, rather, he spoke when something needed saying, and never one to go halfway, when he did speak it was a similar experience to looking at art. Thoughtful, captivating, meaningful. Now he sat quietly, listened, smiled, observed. Like this too, he was beautiful. Blond curls swept over a high forehead, his cheeks held a natural blush, and his bottom lip was fuller than the top, and oh how easily his expression slipped into a pout, a disapproving glance so loaded with judgement that Grantaire could not help but shrink from it. He cowered like a shadow from the light.

His secondary observation was of the rising and falling of Enjolras’ gaze, to the clock, then back to the crowd for a while. He was antsy, but hiding it well. It was such an Enjolras thing to be doing he grinned to himself.

“Your work will still be there when you get back, Apollo.”

“That’s what worries me.”

He wondered how much alcohol would give him the courage to stalk over, to press their lips together. Then he wondered how much alcohol Enjolras would have to drink to consent to it. Considering Enjolras was perpetually sober, it could be any amount and it would make no odds. Also, now he thought about it, consent didn’t count when drunk.

“Let lose, the night is young. Besides, it’s the weekend, there’s no place else we have to be.”

Light from the streetlamp outside filtered through the green curtain, casting a curious glow over the pair of them.

“I’m not boring, you know?”

“Boring?” Where’d that come from?

“Don’t act stupid, I know what you think of me-” shit, Grantaire thought, his brain kicking into high gear, this was it, when finally his presence would no longer even be tolerated, let alone liked and “-that I’m some boring, naïve kid that’s wasting his time and…” Enjolras trailed off. Was that a blush or a trick of the light?

Grantaire took a calming breath, “And?”

“And I’m wondering why I even care what you think about me.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Enjolras slid out of his seat in order to stand closer, “Yet for some reason I do.” He sounded frustrated. “Let’s do something.”

Involuntarily, his eyes slipped to his lips, “What did you have in mind?” It came out flirty, even though he was going for neutral, because from anyone else it would be a proposition but from Enjolras it was innocent. The man who chastely dropped his eyes whenever modesty was threatened. With reluctance, he met his eyes. It didn’t seem like Enjolras would answer so Grantaire offered him his keys, “You drive.”

Enjolras took them. Minutes later they were on the road, still no destination Grantaire was aware of, windows cracked, but only a little. Enjolras was talking, slamming the gears with more and more vigour, but still attentive. Letting him drive was a good call, Grantaire felt fine but he honestly wasn’t sure how much he’d drunk and it was probably better to be safe than sorry. Plus, Enjolras was a good driver.

Then the conversation was handed off to him and he ran with it. There was nothing to drink but there was a crushed cigarette in his pocket and his lighter was in the cup holder. He was nervous, because Enjolras hadn’t criticised him the whole car ride and it felt sort of wrong.

He broke off from what he was saying, “You’re not gonna tell me off for smoking?”

Enjolras frowned, “Why would I? It’s your car.”

“No such reasoning has stopped you before.”

“I’ve never been in your car before.”

Which somehow was true.

He finished the cigarette, chucking the stub with his lighter. They were pulling into his street now and the car smelt, but Enjolras still wasn’t saying anything about it. He searched for words, because this whole situation was fucked. He and Enjolras did not go on aimless midnight car journeys, their exchanges were filled with disdainful undertone (Enjolras) and half truthful replies (Grantaire), if they spoke at all and there must be something that had prompted this change of heart, anything at all. Because this was giving him false hope that desperately needed to die before it took root. Sort of like a weed.

“What’s wrong Enjolras?”

At first, Grantaire thought he would be ignored, but the car glided to a stop outside his apartment, and Enjolras turned to face him. “I realised something.”

“Yeah?”

“I realised that the world isn’t all that bad.”

“I don’t follow, you never thought that in the first place.”

“Course I did, why else would I try so hard to change it? I mean, it’s not perfect, obviously, I’m not _blind_ but, I can vote, I can legally protest, I can get married. There’s just so much that people in the past have fought for me to be able to do it’s almost a dishonour to do anything but enjoy it. I want to enjoy it.”

“And you thought enjoying it meant a random middle of the night outing?” He couldn’t help it if it came out a little sarcastic.

“Can I kiss you?”

He gaped. He could feel his chin literally drop, before he realised the silence was stretching out and Enjolras’ face was becoming unsure and he needed to answer and, “Yes!” Too loudly, too like an overeager puppy. Pathetic.

But then Enjolras pressed his lips to his: briefly, they moved without aim before he pulled back.

Grantaire was amused, to the point he almost forgot to be afraid. “You’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“That obvious?”

Grantaire grinned, trying not to show teeth, “Kinda. It’s okay, I’ll show you.” God what was he doing. His heart felt like it would burst from his chest any moment. He moved his hands, one curled into the small hairs at the nape of his neck, the other to his cheek, guiding gently. Their lips met, and Grantaire tried to deepen the kiss. There was a second when Enjolras wasn’t quite up to speed, but then he opened his mouth and _oh._

He leaned across the console, trying to gather his legs so he could kneel, but overestimated his agility. He broke the kiss as he scrambled to a better position then leaned in again. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating an angel? But no, he could never make up Enjolras. Making out was more than enough. Then he was smiling too much so he broke the kiss again, pressing their foreheads together gently. “Want to come inside?” Enjolras recoiled, and Grantaire rushed to smooth it over, “No! I only meant… I only meant to sleep. It’s late, and you’re here now so.” He shrugged.

Enjolras nodded, “Okay. Just to sleep.”

Later, they lay in Grantaire’s bed, a double, so big enough for the both of them. Enjolras was already asleep, curled on his side facing the room. Grantaire mirrored him, staring intently at his back. And even though they’d kissed, even though he was wearing Grantaire’s shirt, he was still a God, a force of nature, and Grantaire was just a man. He loved that which couldn’t love him back. There was a foot between them, but he’d never felt further away.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be based off Don't You Go by All Time Low but I felt they would need a lot more character development from how I've written them here before Enjolras would consider a one night stand so I just ended it. It's currently unrequited, but in the future, who knows. After all, Enjolras wanted to enjoy the world and the first person he thought of to enjoy it with was Grantaire ;)


End file.
